Dear Cordelia, Dear Doyle
by Fireworks8725
Summary: Doyle is brought back at the scene of his death by the demon Skip. Now Ghost Doyle has to work with Phantom Dennis to help Cordelia with her new life of visions. Please review! Good or bad TY!
1. Dear Cordelia

**Chapter 1-Dear Cordelia**

_Dear Cordelia,_

_I'm sorry._

[-]

Allen Francis Doyle opened his eyes on an abandoned cargo hold. His head felt light. Doyle remembered vaguely, the feeling of his skin melting from his body. He winced in the memory of the pain. He stood up from his place on the floor and tried to understand why he was alone. Why he was even here.

'Cordelia', he thought. "Where are you?" He asked out loud.

A burly wall like demon materialized in front of him.

"Heya! I'm Skip, your connection to the PTB." The demon smiled, as if they were on a mini golf course.

"Skip." Doyle nodded. "What's going on here? I had the distinct impression I would be dead now." He stated in his familiar Irish lilt.

"Those visions…they weren't yours to give away. The PTB are not pleased." Skip frowned dramatically.

"Cordelia?"

"Yes, Cordy girl inherited your visions. I bet she's thankful as ever for those lovely migraines you've given her to remember you by." Skip smirked.

"Hey! I didn't do it to hurt her!"

"Now, don't be so touchy. You're here now, and you are going to have to live with what you've done….Sort of."

"So…what? I get another chance? Another go with the visions?"

"Well…no. You're incorporeal."

"A…ghost?"

[ - ]

Doyle was finally left alone by Skip and he visualized Cordelia. He figured she would have gone home to her apartment. No sooner had he imagined her walking in her front door, did he appear beside her. He reached out for her.

"Cordy!" His arm swung and made contact with air.

Cordelia made no movement to show she had heard him. She was crying. Her face was red and blotchy and she seemed disoriented.

Doyle followed her to the kitchen, with a look of sympathy and pain on his face.

"I can see her and I can't talk to her…or touch her? How could you bring me back to this torture…" he said aloud.

"It's torture alright. She's been like this all day."

Doyle jumped at the sound of another male voice. He spun around to see a blonde man.

"Hey, it's me, Dennis."

"Blimey, Phantom Dennis! I never thought I'd live to see the day that I'd see your face!" He almost smiled.

"Well, technically, you didn't live to see the day…" Dennis pointed out.

"Right…"

"She's been missing you something awful. Wishes you took those visions with you though…" Dennis said.

"I don't know what to do. I want to comfort her…"

"I have an idea…" Dennis suggested, and led him over to the coffee table. "You know I can move things around and interact with Cordy, but she can't hear me? Same goes for you. Something I've always wanted to try…grab that pen and write to her…could be worth a try."

"Wouldn't that scare her? I just died and now I'm suddenly able to write to her? I think that'd upset her more…it's too soon." Doyle said sadly, watching Cordelia very slowly go through the motions of brewing a pot of coffee.

"Think about it." Dennis said and went to sit on the couch.

"I will."

[-]

Cordelia was exhausted. She badly wanted coffee, but she also wanted tea…cookies, no biscuits… She wanted sleep, but she wanted to stay up all night….to watch movies but to read a book…. She wanted Doyle.

She leaned against her kitchen counter in frustration.

"Dennis…" She whispered, "Could you please turn up the heat in here? I'm feeling….cold. I'm going to lie down…can you finish making my coffee for me…please? I can't…" She felt soft, mushy and pathetic. The world seemed to heavy right at that moment to complete the simplest of tasks.

Immediately the room got warmer and the coffee filters and grounds started moving at their own accord about the kitchen. She smiled softly and waded over to her loveseat. She lay her head on the armrest and closed her eyes.

[-]

"_Fair lady beckons…" Dennis said to Doyle after her request for coffee. Doyle ran to the coffee machine while Dennis took care of the thermostat._

_Doyle picked out a green coffee cup, his way of saying he was there to help…even if she didn't know it._

_[ - ]_

He stood in front of her then with her coffee cup in hand, and watched her fitfully doze. He softly put down her coffee and noticed the journal on the table again…

[-]

Cordelia woke up at 2AM to find her coffee beside her, and surprisingly still quite warm. Her ghostie had reheated it for her.

"Thanks Dennis." She grinned, eyes full of sleep.

She sat up with every intention of taking a sip of the beverage, when her brain was filled with graphic images. Her eyes shut and her head whipped back and made contact thankfully with the soft back of her loveseat.

Doyle watched from the chair right beside her, and cringed right along with her, frustrated with himself that he was powerless to assist her in any way.

Cordelia screamed in pain and when she finally righted herself she turned to her notebook and scribbled down the words, _"Girl, blonde, Park Avenue." _

She took a moment to steady her swirling brain and took a moment to silently curse Doyle.

She picked up her house phone and started dialing Angel's cell phone, when she froze.

On the notepad she had just written on, the notepad that had been blank moments before read:

_Dear Cordelia,_

_I'm sorry._

_-AFD_

_[-]_

_**Authors note: Set in season 1 right after Doyle dies. Please, please review, give me some feedback, I really want to commit to this story and keep up with it. My roommate and I are currently rewatching the series, so I'm really in the vibe of the characters right now. Thank you! =]**_

_**If you read it**__, feed__** it. Please!**_


	2. Dear Doyle

_**Chapter 2: Dear Doyle**_

Cordelia practically flew backwards on her loveseat. Invisi-Doyle uselessly reached out to break her fall and of course came in contact with more air, leaving Cordy to break her own tumble. She snatched up the notebook and read it 25 more times before standing up. She grabbed the phone and dialed Angel.

[ -]

Doyle sat with his face lowered into his hands.

"I knew it was too soon." He mumbled to Dennis.

"She's a tough cookie. We don't give her enough credit Doyle. She will be fine. I think you did a good thing."

"She looked so scared, and…hopeful at the same time." Doyle said.

"Yeah, she's able to emote two completely opposing feelings at once, our girl. Gifted." Dennis grinned.

"Angel will take care of her." Doyle resolved as the men watched Cordy grab her coat and storm out the front door.

[ - ]

"AFD?" Angel commented incredulously.

"AFD!" Cordelia hysterically repeated.

"And…?"

"ALLEN FRANCIS DOYLE!"

Angel winced.

"Cord…" He tried to be sympathetic to the cries of a grieving woman grasping at straws.

They were sitting in the Angel Investigations office at 4AM, covered in vamp dust and arguing over the note page Cordelia had frantically presented to Angel the minute they had finished up with the blonde girl on Park Avenue.

Angel was trying to be calm…trying to empathize and to bring Cordelia back down to reality.

"Maybe Dennis was trying to make you feel better?"

"Doyle."

"Is a ghost?"

"Yes. It was Doyle!"

"Cordy…I don't want you to get your hopes up…" Angel's pain face was on. He so wished Doyle would come and haunt him a bit…but he gave up hope on things going his way a long time ago. He could barely allow himself to say Doyle's name out loud.

He winced each time Cordy said it.

"AFD could be anything." Angel rationalized. "We don't know if this is some trick, a demon?"

"Doyle was a demon." Cordelia growled.

"A _bad_ demon," Angel clarified. "Head home, get some sleep. I'll get Wes to look at some books later this morning about this kind of thing being possible. I doubt he will take kindly to the 4AM wake up call."

"Fine, you win, this time! I'll go try to sleep with WHO KNOWS how many ghosts hanging out in my apartment. Dennis could be having a phantom party with Doyle!"

"Or…a Doyle impersonator," Angel mumbled.

"Don't you start again Mister! Goodnight!" Cordelia stood and gracefully sauntered off to her car.

[ - ]

Doyle and Dennis sat around the coffee table and played a round of Rummy while they awaited Cordelia's return.

"It's been hours…do you think she's okay?"

"Now you know what I go through. She's out with you guys sometimes whole days. Worrying comes with the ghost situation. She's fine." Dennis assured him.

Finally they heard the lock in the door click and Doyle sprang to his feet.

"Princess..." He breathed out the words silently in a whisper.

Cordelia swung her purse violently towards the couch and narrowly missed Doyle's head. Dennis stifled a laugh that Cordy couldn't hear anyways.

She made her way to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her. The men stood there in stunned silence to what they heard next.

[ - ]

Cordelia was hanging on by a thread. Even if there hadn't been a mysterious note on her table, she would have invented one at that point. Doyle had been gone for only a few days and her world just continued to crumble each time she remembered he would never be coming home. She felt bitter and alone in that Angel wouldn't jump right on board with her fictionalized idea of Doyle haunting her apartment. She stormed directly to her bedroom and slammed the door shut for the first time since she moved in. She hoped she didn't alarm Dennis too much, but right now she was not mentally prepared to go apologize to an invisible person. She wanted to calm herself down and go to sleep like she told Angel she would, but she was wound up. Every time she closed her eyes she either saw Doyle smiling at her with that look of adoration on his face, or the way he disintegrated in midair right in front of her.

Her body tensed at the thought and she spontaneously grabbed her bedside lamp and whipped it at the wall. She yelled at the top of her lungs and threw her pillows too. She grabbed the phone base from her bedside and starting smashing it against her headboard and that's when the tears started.

Between the screaming, hysterical crying, and crashing and slamming noises, Doyle was torn to bits standing outside her door, deciding how he wanted to proceed here. He knew it was his fault, every minute, and every second of her pain. He couldn't help her; he could only make it worse. His insides were being eaten alive with guilt.

"Oh, Princess, what have I done to ya?" He asked a loud.

Dennis sat back on the loveseat, morose like someone visiting in the cancer ward of a hospital. He didn't want to interfere with this delicate moment for Doyle. He couldn't help being a peeping ghost. There was no where else he could go.

Doyle paced in front of Cordy's door, her roars slowly quieting down to deep yet whisper like sobs.

"Doyle…" She cried out.

Doyle couldn't take it anymore; he pushed himself through her closed door and ran to her side. She was curled up into a ball on the floor between the bed and the wall.

"Oh Princess…" Doyle had tears in his eyes, but was still helpless as ever. He took a seat beside her and watched her cry herself to sleep against the wall.

Once she was asleep he noticed a paper tucked under her head. He thought it was just his note to her from earlier, but he reached for it anyways.

He braced himself against her wall as he read the paper and the tears tumbled down his face.

_Dear Doyle,_

_Come back to me._

_Love, Cordy_

_[ - ]_

It took Doyle a few hours to compose himself, but finally he pried himself from the floor and joined Dennis in the living room. Dennis had a look of understanding written on his face and feigned watching early morning cartoons to give Doyle the time he needed to arrange his thoughts.

The men sat in comfortable silence until Cordelia finally emerged from her room. She was fully dressed and looked ready to leave. She was feeling a little skittish because her offhand note to Doyle to calm her nerves at four in the morning, was now gone. She looked all over her room and in her bed sheets and found no trace of it.

Doyle watched her and marveled at how strong she was being to get out of bed and face another day of fighting evil. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for.

Cordelia skipped breakfast and took her time strapping on her tan sandals. She didn't want to leave the house and leave the small connection she felt with Doyle, only to hear Angel go on about how she was a basket case.

She sighed to herself and stood up.

"See ya later Dennis!" She waved at the air around her and walked to the door.

The she froze.

There was a piece of note paper taped to her front door.

She slowly approached it. The top of the paper had her note to Doyle from early that morning.

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized there was another note in different handwriting. Her eyes welled up, but she was more motivated than ever.

She spun on her heel and looked back at her empty apartment. She scanned the room, her eyes peeled for even the slightest of movements. She strained herself to see what was not there. She blinked back the tears and ripped the note off the door. Then she sped out of the apartment and down the hallway as fast as she could towards Angel.

The note that told her she wasn't wrong, and that would show Angel was in her hands.

_Cordelia,_

_I'm here Princess._

_- Doyle_

_[ - ]_

_**[Authors note]**_

**If you read it, **_feed_** it, please! Review!**


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